


Horrors of War

by MsFaust



Series: Inky Tales [176]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, In memory of 9-11, Meanwhile On the Outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsFaust/pseuds/MsFaust
Summary: Six of the Sillyvision Survivors honor those who have died in war.





	Horrors of War

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Any AU where Henry left because he was drafted.
> 
> The song featured here is No Man’s Land, AKA Green Fields of France.

It had been almost thirty years since Henry had been drafted, and in that time, several of Joey's staff had also departed the studio, albeit of their own free will, and thus were spared from the nightmare that their colleagues were subjected to. Of those lucky few, six were currently at the local amphitheater, attending a concert for war veterans.

 

"I wish this was for something happier," Wally said as the two teenagers on stage finished their rendition of Fortunate Son.

 

"Tell me about it," Thomas agreed. "Henry's still having nightmares about 'Nam. Makes me wonder why he went back to you-know-where."

 

"I got nothin' on that front," Norman said with a shrug. "Still, it makes me feel lucky nobody else from the studio got drafted. War's a damn ugly thing, especially when it's bein' fought by men barely out of childhood. And it just keeps happenin'."

 

"Maybe that's why Shawn picked this song," mused Wally.

 

Before either of the other two could say anything, Shawn came onto the stage. Sammy and Susie joined him a moment later, the former rolling in a piano. He sat down and began to play as Shawn picked up two microphones, handing one to Susie before starting to sing.

 

"Oh how do you do, young Willy McBride?

Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,

And rest for a while in the warm summer sun?

I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.

 

And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen

When you joined the great fallen in 1916.

Well I hope you died quick,

And I hope you died clean.

Or Willy McBride, was it slow and obscene?”

 

Closing her eyes and looking solemn, Susie sang the refrain.

 

“Did they beat the drums slowly?

Did they play the fife lowly?

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?

Did the band play the last post and chorus?

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?”

 

“And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?

In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?

And though you died back in 1916,

To that loyal heart you're forever nineteen.”

 

Or are you a stranger without even a name,

Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane,

In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained,

And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame?”

 

“Did they beat the drums slowly?

Did they play the fife lowly?

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?

Did the band play the last post and chorus?

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?”

 

“The sun’s shining down on these green fields of France.

The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.

The trenches have vanished long under the plow.

No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now.

 

But here in this graveyard that's still no mans land,

The countless white crosses in mute witness stand

To man's blind indifference to his fellow man

And a whole generation were butchered and damned.”

 

“Did they beat the drums slowly?

Did they play the fife lowly?

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?

Did the band play the last post and chorus?

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?”

 

“And I can't help but wonder oh Willy McBride,

Do all those who lie here know why they died?”

 

“Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?

Did you really believe that this war would end wars?”

 

“Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame...”

 

“The killing and dying it was all done in vain...”

 

“Oh Willy McBride it all happened again...”

 

“And again, and again, and again, and again.”

 

Heads bowed in reverence, the two sang the final part together.

 

“Did they beat the drums slowly?

Did they play the fife lowly?

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?

Did the band play the last post and chorus?

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?”

 

The last notes faded as the audience stood and applauded. As the three came down to join their friends, Sammy and Susie noticed tears starting to roll down Shawn's cheeks.


End file.
